


Blue

by huntsandcases



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:49:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12897555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntsandcases/pseuds/huntsandcases
Summary: When Dean lost Cas, the world just seemed to crash and burn around him. 15 years later, he meets another blue-eyed Castiel, who calls himself Cas and he can't help, but wonder if this is the man he lost.'Cause there's no such thing as supernatural, is there?





	1. Empty Space

 

 **1990**  

It was raining that day.

Water pooled around their feet, staining the deep black leather that never left the closet except for birthdays and the holidays. But the day wasn’t meant for merriment, at least no one really knew weeks ago that it wouldn’t be. Dean held Cas’ tiny fingers around his, in an attempt to lull his tears. It didn’t, but the corner of his lips upturned, and Dean tightened his hold.

The Impala rumbled as both bid their goodbyes. Dean didn’t believe in heaven even though his mom told him stories about it, especially the one with the angels, though he thought they were cool. But he wished that Cas’ dad was in a place just as good. Together with his mom, they can watch over him, Cas, and Sam.

The hand in his shifted, nudged to the direction of the car and after meeting the blue haze of Cas’ eyes, they left the patched soil.

 

**2000**

“Sam, you won’t believe what just happened.” Dean dropped his bag near Sam’s books that he remembered as the ones about some lame politicians and bounced on the sofa.

“What?” Dean was pretty sure his brother was only half-listening, too engrossed with the new old book Cas got him for his birthday. He jerked his foot, hitting Sam’s elbow that was propped on the coffee table. “Dean-”

“It’s here.”

“What?” At first it was pure exasperation, but slowly Sam’s brows melted into recognition, then he was grinning like a cat and Dean was nodding with a smug plastered on his face.

The door creaked open and a moment later, Cas trudged inside the living room dropping next to Dean. “I-, it’s not even worth it.” He exhaled waving his hands, before laying like a missing fixture on the sofa with his eyes closed.

Dean couldn’t help but drop a pillow on top of his face. “Wow. 6 years and you still haven’t beaten me.”

“The school bus was right there, Dean. I still don’t understand why we need to race to your house.” He slurred, throwing the pillow and missing Dean.

“So, what did it say?” Unperturbed, Sam pulled his attention back to the conversation.

There wasn’t anything extraordinary in getting a chance to join the trip to the Very Large Telescope facility in Chile. It wasn’t like he was going to get picked. Thousands of high school students were evaluated, and his record wasn’t exactly exceptional. But the result was in his left pocket and having Sam and Cas read it with him would make the probable disappointment be less, well, disappointing.

“Just open it.” Cas mumbled tiredly from his place on the sofa.

Dean rolled his eyes as he ripped the envelope shakily. He felt someone looming from behind him as Sam leaned closer to read. A few seconds later, his brother was the first to heave a sigh. “Wow. I’m really sorry, Dean.”

Cas looped his fingers around his upper arm. “We can always see the stars from here. As a matter of fact-.”

Sam shuffled excitedly to the kitchen with Cas on his tail and they both came back with a long brown box that made Dean’s brows furrow. “What’s happening?”

After being forced to open the ‘surprise’, all Dean could do was gape at the very heavy telescope in his hands. “It was Sam’s idea.”

“But mostly Cas’ money and Uncle Bobby’s.”

“Want to set it up?”

Still astounded, Dean just nodded at Cas’ question and started lifting the box.

 

After all the cookies were eaten, Cas sat on the grass, shoulders bumping his while Sam kept busying himself with the telescope. Dean caught his lips curving upwards for the hundredth time that day. “Thanks. You don’t even like the stars and all the other space crap.”

He felt Cas chuckle in response. “Yeah, I really don’t." He grinned like an idiot, Dean’s favorite, and tilted his head to where Sam had started to turn the telescope to a different corner in the sky.

“What would’ve happened if I got to join the trip?”

“We bought it thinking you won’t stop talking about your trip. So, Sam thought your very own telescope would shut you up and, at the same time, keep you out of the house.”

Dean considered that he might break his jaw that night and concluded that it would totally be worth it.

 

**2002**

Dean stepped out to the backyard, the brisk breeze seeping through the sweater that he got from Ellen last Christmas. Kansas had always been his home. It’s where he learned how to ride a bike, where he got the frozen tips he swore he never had. He could even see the tree where Baby almost got wrecked when Cas ‘learned’ how to drive, the reason why ‘no one gets to drive the Impala, but me Sam’. But having all of his bags packed, he just never saw it coming.

“Nervous?” For an eighteen-year-old, Cas’ voice was too deep and gravelly.

“Nah. It’s just a graduation.” He dismissed as he watched Cas’ coat flap in the dark.

With a gummy smile, Cas shook his head. “Sure.” He sat down next to Dean close enough for him to feel the warmth on his right shoulder. “But we’re also moving to Michigan.”

“Hah. Right. How’s Uncle Bobby taking it?”

“He’s alright. He told me that family doesn’t end in blood and that he’ll always be mine.” He shrugged a bit and inadvertently sighed. “I don’t know. Bobby doesn’t really talk about his feelings, but everyone loves him here, he’s going to be fine.” 

Dean thought of how Bobby took care of them while his Dad emptied the bottles. He told Dean that grief is a poisonous thing, but a little faith would help cure it away. Dean couldn’t help, but agree.

“He also said that you’re going to be an amazing engineer.” Cas blurted out with a huge grin, as if the sudden memory was very dear to him.

Then Dean recalled how a really, young Cas stood by their fence one morning. Some of his teeth were missing, but he had this smirk that was forever seared in Dean’s memory, giving meaning to what Bobby told him about faith. Now, it was his turn to grin. “You’re going to be a great doctor, Cas.”

Cas wrapped more of his oversized coat around him. “It’s just pre-med, Dean. There’s still medical school which would take more years, then there’s residency-.”

“Who’s nervous now?” He stopped the impending tirade, catching Cas’ shoulders as he knelt in front of him. “You’re going to be great.” The lone streetlight dulled his eyes, but they never failed to be wrong type of blue. “We’re going to do this together. Like we always do.”

 

They never should’ve left without Cas. The dude won’t ever finish fixing his hair if no one would point out to him that it’s impossible to keep them tame. If Sam just listened to him and Uncle Bobby didn’t point out that he had his own truck, he would be here. But the program was starting, all of the students were standing up and Cas’ seat was still empty.

When everyone sat down for the long-ass speeches, Dean tried to search for Sam in the crowd. He found him watching Ellen talk on the phone with cautious eyes. And almost as if he could hear Dean, Sam’s eyes flicked to him.

It was the longest moment of his life. Everything was a blur and the noises were too quiet to get his attention. He almost bolted for a couple of times, worried, scared, angry. He stood up and sat down at appropriate times. He climbed up the stage. He did everything perfectly and all he had was that little faith that he held onto for years to keep him waiting for a late, befuddled Cas to appear. But his seat never did get filled.

 

**Present Day**

Dean fishes his umbrella out of his bag. He’s glad he has a geeky brother who forces him to bring it every day. Who knew it would be raining like crazy today? He gets ready to surge through the storm when he feels a hand tapping his arm. He meets a shocking dark hair and blue eyes, and Dean feels as if the air is getting sucked out of his body. A moment and a curious squint later, he hears the words coming from the man in the trench coat.

“Are you okay?” He clutches his briefcase to his side and reaches his other hand to shake Dean, who hastily fumbles backwards.

“Yeah-.” He answers distractedly. “I, shit, yeah, I’m fine.” He nods to emphasize his point and the man seems to have decided that it is best for him to ignore Dean’s ‘panic attack’.

“I was just wondering if I could borrow your umbrella.” He points to the bag he’s holding. “I have an important meeting to get to and I can’t afford to get drenched with the rain. I’m parked over there.” Dean’s still in shock that he follows the direction absentmindedly. Something so familiar, yet buried deeply, is nagging at him. “I’d pass by and give it back.” The man urges, Dean's long silence probably conveying as reluctance.

“Actually, I’m also going there. I can just bring you.” He finally decides to be coherent.

A cloud of relief reels in the man’s eyes. “That would be great. I appreciate this very much.”

 

Maybe it’s the fear of getting soaked or Dean just wants to get out of this situation as soon as possible, he opts not to pick, but this is the fastest he’s ever walked in his life. The man seems to be having a difficult time catching up because of whatever's inside his briefcase and Dean feels a bit guilty.

“This is me.” The guy points to a 1978 Continental Mark V, as Dean recalls, which is, _you’ve got to be kidding_ , resting next to the Impala.

“And that one’s me.” He tries not to sound exasperated.

The corner of the man’s lips quirks up in amusement. “That’s convenient.” He enters his car, sliding down the window as soon as it starts. “I’m really grateful for your help. I would like to buy you a cup of coffee, sometime. Do you work here?”

“Kinda. I work ‘round the corner.”

“The coffee shop?” He asks in astonishment and smiles brightly as Dean nods. “I go there all the time. It’s a surprise I've never seen you.” _Of course, he does._ “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I got your name.”

“D-Dean, it’s Dean. And I just started.” Dean smiles politely, trying to think of a way to end the conversation.

“Oh, I’m Cas.”

_What?_

“Cas?”

The word feels so foreign. It used to roll off his tongue like a Led Zeppelin song, but now it tastes bitter and sour.

This Cas person hums. “Yes, it’s the shortened version of my name.” He explains matter-of-factly and prepares to shift gears. “I really need to be going. I’ll see you around, Dean.”

Completely dumbfounded, Dean is left with an empty space.


	2. Running and Running

 

Is it really-? _No, way._ Dean thinks to himself. No way in hell is he going to put himself through that. He paces back to the kitchen and grabs himself another can of beer, that’s when he hears keys jingling, followed by the thumping of boots across the hardwood floor.

“Did you get to pass by the university?” Sam asks as Dean catches him discarding his coat onto the rack.

“You believe in reincarnation crap, right? Like people getting reborn or something?” Sam gives him his patented bitch face and scoots away from where Dean has trapped him.

“It’s not crap, Dean.” He derides, sweeping his ridiculously long hair away from his face. “Why are you even asking? You never cared about stuff like this.”

Sam has a point, and it makes Dean realize that he has flipped a full one-eighty. He catches up to the living room and ignores the question. “Can people do that, then?”

Sam turns to look at him and his face twists, as if he’s trying to read what’s going on in Dean’s head. He clicks his tongue and begins, “It’s a concept, Dean. I like to think that it’s possible for living beings to start a new life in a different physical form after dying.”

Right. And Dean believes that once you’re dead, you stay dead, but it’s a very appalling joke to be a coincidence. Or maybe, Dean just wants to be hopeful, wants this bizarreness to be true. “What if they come back in the same body?” The question comes out as a whisper without his consent.

Sam’s features smoothen quickly, almost as if a switch has been flipped. “Dean, what happened?”

“Nothing.” He replies immediately and it’s his turn to sweep the tufts above his head. “Just tell me, Sam.”

“Some people believe that it’s possible, but Dean-.” He breathes out an audible sigh.  “People coming back from the dead.” And then he just stops. Dean realizes that maybe Sam has thought about this, too. They’ve lost so many and you can’t help but wish for another chance when people just keep going away.

It’s really, surprising that they never talked about this. Well, they never really talk about anything, anymore. It has always been business between them for as long as Dean allows himself to remember. Starting when he took the mechanic job in Kansas after high school, he and Sam never really had a decent conversation. Sam didn’t like how Dean decided to take on the responsibility of putting him to school on his own. Then his brother got a full ride at a university, far away from home and he didn’t need Dean anymore, so Dean quit his job and he left.

 

And ever since, Dean just drives, touching down in every state that’s not Kansas. He takes a job from time to time, and then he loses them, either by coming to work reeking of alcohol or by not showing up for days. And when he isn’t driving, he just stays inside the Impala. But sometimes, everything becomes too much, not even drinking himself wasted can make him ignore the hole in his chest. And that’s when he calls Sam who unalterably answers, every single time.

“Look, Dean-.”

“No, it’s fine, Sam.” It’s Dean’s fault. He knows that his brother is trying and he’s grateful for that. “And yeah, I passed by this morning. I’m going to work tomorrow.”

“Great.” He nods more than necessary and points to the direction of his room. “I’m going to-.”

“Yeah.”

Dean scuffles to the sofa and he hears the shutting of Sam’s bedroom door.

 

Dean grabs the first cup from the line on the counter. He reads the notes and starts to brew for a tall black coffee. The place is packed with mostly students wearing thick maroon jackets and the rest are carrying either a leather briefcase or a sports bag. The machine pours out the hot drink as he absently listens to a group of girls chattering about their midterms.

“Dean?”

Dean almost drops the scalding liquid at the mention of his name. It’s not that he’s easily startled, but the voice sounds too familiar that he has to make sure that he’s not the only one who’s hearing it. Not surprisingly, he heard wrong.

“Hello, Dean.” ‘Cas’ remarks.

“Hey. Uh-how’s it going?” He tries for casual and pretends to focus on his task at hand.

“Peachy.”

But he must raise his head for that. _Did he just say peachy?_

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, I apologize. A coworker of mine pointed out that I speak too decorously.” He rolls his eyes with a huff. “I do appreciate his sentiment, though. I often seem to spook my students with the way I talk.”

Huh. He’s a professor. Now, why does that bother Dean?

“It means I’m feeling great.”

Dean’s brows furrow in reply. “What?”

“Peachy. It’s another word for excellent or fine.” And then he grins, his nose wrinkling with his eyes. “I believe that’s mine.” Cas points to the cup in his hand.

Dean reads ‘Castiel’ and he sees a hand reaching out in front of him. So, he hands Castiel the coffee, and he receives a gratitude in return.

 

Dean finds out that Castiel does teach at the university, so they eventually agreed to meet up at the restaurant just outside the campus, after Dean’s shift and Castiel’s last class for the day. What Dean can’t fathom is how easily he said yes. Surely, he didn't really need to be treated to dinner just because he shared his umbrella. At least the place isn’t quaint nor fancy. Everything is made of wood and the lights are dull that kind of hurt Dean's eyes, but it gives the place an Old West vibe. It doesn't quite fit with the polished environment of the university, but he can spot some of the patrons wearing the phoenix crest from their mascot. As Dean reads the menu, his stomach grumbles and a bow-tie wearing waiter arrives to take their order.

“I’ll get the usual, Alfie.” Castiel tells the lanky kid who then turns to Dean.

“I’ll have the burger.”

Alfie raises his eyebrow. “It's your first time here? You want to make it like Cas’ usual, with fries and root beer?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He replies, and Alfie happily scribbles down something then leaves. “So, you like burgers, too?”

“Yeah. As a kid, I was raised to eat vegetables and gluten free food. Just imagine my fascination with everything greasy when I started living on my own.”

“Huh. You know, Sam still lives off those healthy-goodie stuff.” He gushes, recalling the refrigerator in the apartment.

“I’m sorry. Sam is?”

Dean wants to kick himself. "Sam is my brother."

"Then your brother is missing out." Cas speaks fondly, like he hadn't just heard about Sam seconds ago.

"Tell me about it."

Castiel chuckles before taking a sip of his water. "So, you mentioned you just started working. Did you recently move here?"

"Kind of. I drive around. Sometimes I stay here with Sammy. I-." Dean catches himself. He needs to remember that this Cas is a total stranger and doesn't probably want to hear about his baggage. "It's a long story. Point is, I've been around before."

"What places have you been to?" His deep, graveled voice is laced with interest.

Dean rubs the nape of his neck and considers the question. "Ah, I don't know. I don't really keep count, but I'd say most states."

"That is astounding." If it were other people, Dean would call them out for lying, but Cas seems like he only speaks what's in his mind. "Do you favor one in particular?"

Dean doesn't know the answer to that question. There hasn't been any reason for him to stop and appreciate the places that he's been to. Looking back, the only thing that urged him to go to a different place was that he couldn't stay in one. The past few years, he just kept running and running. Now, he still hasn't taken a break. So, "No. Not really."

Alfie arrives with their food and Dean's thankful for the distraction. He busies Castiel with a conversation about some project and Dean decides that maybe they wouldn't mind if he starts eating. He embarrassingly groans at the best burger he's ever tasted, and he has tried a lot, that Castiel looks back to him with a grin on his face.

"Sorry." He chews the tender beef a few more then swallows. "This is pretty good."

Alfie excuses himself and Cas grabs his own burger from the plate. "It really is. You should try their pie too."

Oh, Dean is not going to say no to that.

 

Sam worries about his brother. Especially when he doesn’t know where he is. So, every time he’s in Chicago, Sam makes sure he hasn’t run off whenever he’s out for an unusually long time. Tonight, is one of those times. His shift ended hours ago and Sam’s pretty sure Dean’s not serving an overtime. He feels like picking up shifts at the university’s coffee house isn’t what his brother ought to be doing, but he doesn’t want to dwell on that. He picks out Dean’s name from his contact list and waits for the beep. To his surprise, his call gets answered after the third ring that Sam wonders if he dialed the wrong number.

“Yeah?”

“Dean?”

“Yep. What’s up?” _So, not the wrong number._

“Is everything alright? I didn’t see the Impala in the driveway.” It’s a delicate topic. When Dean leaves, it’s usually similar to this scenario, minus the phone call.

“I'm actually on my way up. Just had dinner with someone.”

 _Dinner? Since when did Dean have friends?_ Wow. Sam realizes he’s being cruel. Of course, his brother deserves this. The only relationship that he believes Dean ever had in the past 15 years is his string of one-night stands. Finally, he’s hanging out with someone new. So much for thinking that his brother has gone crazy. Sam ends the call and a few moments later Dean appears in the kitchen. "Do you want me to heat this up?" He points to the pie from Jess.

Dean looks like he's really contemplating his answer, but eventually sighs in defeat. "Nah. I'm still pretty full."

"You? Rejecting pie?" He doesn't really mean to sound accusatory.

"I had like three, already." Dean rolls his eyes and moves to the fridge.

"Where?"

Dean retrieves a bottle of water and proceeds to stare pointedly at Sam. "Am I sixteen, or something?"

"No, I'm really curious." And he is, except he's more interested with his brother's new friend.

"Just this burger place outside the university."

"You know about that?"

Dean walks to the living room, so Sam follows. "No. The person I had dinner with suggested it. He's like a regular."

"Wow. Then he must work at the university." The restaurant Dean's talking about is actually very difficult to spot. Only those who spend a lot of time roaming the campus find it and they are very lucky because the place is second to the Roadhouse when it comes to food.

"A professor." The television plays some episode of Dr. Sexy that Sam almost misses what Dean said.

"Yeah? Do I know him?"

"I don't think so. He doesn't know you. He just started last year."

Sam takes a seat beside Dean. This conversation's the longest they've had in years. "From what department?"

"Astronomy." The clip to his voice took Sam's attention. Dean had a phase where he was really into stars and galaxies. He wonders if Dean still likes them.

"What's his name?" This time, Dean's body stiffens, and his thumb stops picking at the bottle's label. Sam doesn't really mean to pry, and he most certainly doesn't plan to stalk his brother's friend. He just thinks that maybe if he runs into him he can strike up a conversation or something, so he tells this to Dean.

And Dean slacks back in his seat and unceremoniously flips the channel. "Castiel."


	3. No Offense

Sam keeps his promises. He isn’t some creep who spies on people or looks them up in the university database. That’s what Sam has been telling himself for an hour while staring at the blinking line on the screen. Some of the professors are starting to leave their desks to go to their next class which means lunch break is over and he's going to be late if he keeps this up. So, he closes his laptop and gulps down his tea hastily, the chair swiveling as he leaves. The corridor is filled with students and it’s not helping with his restlessness. It just bothers him. Not the fact that Dean has a friend, but the way he’s being secretive about it.

Castiel. That is the last information he got out of his brother and for weeks he has been trying to get more, but so far, Dean has kept finding ways to dodge his questions. Inevitably, Sam will need to let this go. Besides, the Impala still greets him with its elegant midnight paint when he goes for a run in the morning, that’s enough reason not to worry so much about Dean. So, he lets it go. Almost.

It’s Saturday and Sam didn’t mean to sleep on the couch while watching The Princess Bride. The whole week is hectic with all the final examinations and faculty conferences, but watching the movie is one of the habits that he never got rid of growing up. Slowly, he becomes aware of his current state, a foot on the floor, an arm uncomfortably pressed on the couch, and something vibrating annoyingly somewhere underneath him. He finds a phone and tries his best to answer the call. 

“Hello, Dean.” A deep, somewhat familiar, voice calls out from the speaker. 

“This is Sam speaking. Uh, Dean’s brother?” He should just wake Dean up, but the prospect of standing doesn’t seem appealing and there’s also the possibility that the message isn’t urgent, so he won't have to.

“Oh. He did mention you. Is there any chance I can speak with him?” The question urges Sam to roll his eyes. It seems that that is always the case whenever Dean is involved.

“Yeah, sure.” He lifts his head to listen for any movements from his brother’s room and then drops it dejectedly. As expected, Dean is still sleeping. It’s – he looks at the clock hanging on the wall – _wow_ , 7 in the morning. _Who calls this early on a Saturday?_ That reminds him, “Who is this?”

“Castiel.”

The thermostat in the living room is probably acting out again since he can hear his teeth chatter from the frost. He covers his mouth to warm it before finally catching up to what’s happening because if Sam isn’t dreaming, it means that he’s finally talking to the guy he keeps _not_ hearing about. “Uhh, yeah, what can I do for you?” He asks in panic.

“I’m looking to speak with Dean?” Castiel sounds confused and Sam smacks his forehead because he already asked that.

“Right. Sorry.” He shuffles his feet and heads straight to Dean’s room. “He’s probably still sleeping.”

On the way, he hears shuffling from the other line. “I’m terribly sorry. Should I call back later?”

Sam feels guilty. He didn’t mean to chastise the guy for calling so early, well not anymore. “No, it’s fine. I’m just going to wake him up. I’m sure he doesn’t mind. Do you want me to tell him what it’s about?” Okay, now he’s just snooping. Technically, he’s asking for permission so if Castiel disagrees, he will back off.

“Oh, I’m near your neighborhood and there’s smoke coming out of my car’s hood.”

If he’s calling Dean, his brother must’ve mentioned that he can help with that. He doesn’t even know that Dean’s still fixing cars. Sam foregoes his train of thought and chooses to open Dean’s door instead. He isn’t really betting that he can wake him up by knocking so he starts to shake Dean’s shoulder as soon as he reaches his bed. Sam just didn’t account for the smack on the side of his head when Dean snapped to consciousness.

“Who-wha-hey!” Dean shouts indignantly.

“Calm down. It’s just me.”

Dean slowly sweeps his hazy eyes across the room before zoning in on him. The light’s already shining on his brother’s sun kissed hair, but Sam supposes that the hour’s still too early for him. “Why are you in my room?” Dean finally asks with a yawn.

“You have a call.” He realizes that he should clarify since Dean still looks dopy and utterly confused. “A Castiel?” A few more seconds pass with Dean just opening and closing his eyes before he virtually snatches the phone out of Sam’s hand.

 

Dean sees Castiel brushing his hands together in front of his Continental. For an old car, it looks taken care of, but even he feels like he’s going to snap from Chicago’s negative degrees weather, he doubts the old pimpmobile can keep up – _no offense,_ he once told Cas when he provided the nickname.

“Cas.” He exclaims as soon as the window is down. “Didn’t I tell you to get a real car?” He pats the Impala’s steering wheel with his most smug smile.

That warrants a roll of Cas’ eyes before he snoops down to match Dean’s level. He ducks his head and a stain of pink rises from his neck. “I didn’t mean to trouble you, but-.” His eyes shut tightly before snapping open with absolute despair. “This morning just isn’t working out well for me.”

 

“No shit, Cas.” Dean swats the smoke away after opening the hood of the car.

“How bad is it?” Cas sounds exhausted and it’s not even time for Dean’s breakfast yet. And he should be, Dean decides after inspection. He almost hates to break it to the guy since he looks like the sky’s going to crash down on him any minute. “You have a blown head gasket, Cas.” He explains the things that needs to be done before looking over at Cas who’s squinting at the engine with absolute resoluteness. That means he already expected what Dean has just told him or, “You have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

Cas’ gaze flick to him, his cheeks starting to flush. Dean wants to laugh if only he doesn’t find it so damn adorable. He eventually ends up with his hand on Cas’ shoulder, encouraging him to tell the truth, not that he would’ve lied otherwise. “Not really,” he tells Dean. “I just remembered that you mentioned living around here and that you used to fix cars before so-.” He scratches the back of his head and sighs. “I’m not good with cars.”

“No fucking clue if you ask me.” Dean concludes in mock distaste.

“That is harrowing, but accurate.”

Dean snickers and retrieves his hand to point out the problem with the car. “Replacing this takes days and it’s a bit pricey.”

A wrinkle forms in Cas’ forehead. “Will you be able to provide estimated values?” He musses his hair – Dean used to think that that thing couldn’t get messier.

He tries his best to stall the bad news by pretending to think about it. “2-3 days and 500 bucks at best.”

If they were in a cartoon, he swears Cas’ eyes would’ve popped out of his head. “That’s-.” Cas still has his poker face on and if not for his rigid shoulders and balled fists, Dean won’t be able to know that he’s frustrated. “-unfortunate.” He finally finishes.

“Hey, that’s why I’m here.” His statement gets Cas to look at him. “I can finish this in a day or two and a head gasket’s less than a hundred bucks.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Dean.”

“Why the hell not?”

Cas tilts his head, probably wondering why Dean doesn’t see it the way he does. Well, Dean may have exaggerated his abilities. It’s been years since he last fixed a car that’s not Baby, but Dean thinks it’s just like riding a bike, right? Besides, it’s true that mechanics bill high for this job since the task is time consuming and, to put it lightly, complicated, so he might as well do it and save Cas the trouble.

“How am I going to pay you back?”

“We’ll see. I like the idea that someone’s indebted to me indefinitely.”

 

“So, you’re telling me, this is where your first paycheck went?” After grabbing breakfast at the diner across the auto store, they were able to transfer Cas’ car in the apartment’s garage. It only took a confused landlady who was persuaded to give up her parking space for a few days, given that she doesn’t drive anymore.

“I was young, I happened to like it, and I needed a car. It was logical for me to pick this car.” And to emphasize his point, Cas pats the windshield like a dog. “The price was very generous too.”

“It was cheap for a reason, Cas.” He twists another bolt and he tries to hide his amusement under the hood.

Predictably, the very perceptive Castiel picks up on it. “For your information, I _still_ like this car and although, I am grateful for your help, I don’t appreciate you mocking it.”

Dean raises his head and hands in surrender. “I was just stating my, opinion, kind sir.” He grins at him before going back to work.

“If you weren’t doing me a favor, I would say that it would be in your best interest to keep your opinions to yourself.” Dean peeks to watch Cas grin back and it looks so devious, he almost looks like the cat from that movie he watched the other day.

“You’re an asshole.” He says seriously, but he can’t bite back the smile on his lips. He hasn’t really been paying much attention to it, but recently, conversations with Cas have felt comfortable and natural. It’s not a matter of consequence, having someone like Cas doesn’t bother him in the slightest. So why does he feel iffy?

Cas paces to the back of the car. He then re-emerges on Dean’s other side with a chair. “What brought you here anyway?” Dean asks.

“I was on my way to my cousin’s tailor.” Cas indulges as he takes a seat.  “Weddings are such inconvenience.”

Dean admires Cas’ ability to look calm while expressing his contempt. His face remains relatively the same most of the time, but a slight curve of his lips would mean something else entirely. Someone inexperienced would totally miss it. Dean doesn’t. He can see it because he spent years watching out for those sudden changes with the other person he knew who can do that. Dean ends up thinking about that while fixing the car with implicit memory, so he didn’t notice that Cas is now watching him from a really close distance. Suddenly, Dean can’t figure out where to put his hands. He moves away to grab a different tool and Cas thankfully goes back to his seat when he comes back.

“Where did you learn how to do all of this?”

Dean shrugs before taking out the manifolds. “Started with me hanging around in auto shops. Dad’s a mechanic, so is our uh-, you could say a family friend. I got curious and they saw something in me or some shit like that, so they taught me.” He hasn’t thought about this in a long time, so Dean tip toes the memory lane to avoid getting side tracked. “I became good at it, so I ended up doing it for a while. Guess it stuck.”

“I appreciate this very much, Dean.” Dean made a mistake of looking at Cas because leave it to the guy to look beyond grateful that Dean can feel warmth seeping through his chest. It is totally unnecessary, it’s not like he’s saving a life or anything. He’s got nothing else to do anyway.

“Thank me after. Your car has been through a lot, so it might take longer than I promised.”

Suddenly, Cas snaps up while frowning at the watch on his wrist. Dean has to stop what he’s doing to see what has happened. “I should be getting measured for a suit. It appears to be that I had missed my schedule, well, thirty minutes ago.” Cas springs out of the chair while typing frantically on his phone. “Gabriel is going to chop my head off. I’m going to take a cab and I’ll be back with lunch, is that alright?” Cas looks up to face him, probably waiting for an approval.

But instead of answering him, Dean fetches the keys in his pocket and offers it to Cas. “Do you want to take my car?” This is a pretty big gesture from Dean. He only needs one hand to count the number of people who has driven the Impala and for years now it has been just him.

Maybe that’s also why Cas raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “You seem to hold a deep attachment to your car, Dean. I don’t want to find out what would happen if I were to damage it.”

He has a point and Dean shouldn’t really be pushing this, but Cas is already having a shitty day and a cab will just cost him more, that only contradicts the purpose of Dean taking on this job. “ _She_ is very gentle Cas. You just gotta drive carefully and you’ll be fine.”

Cas walks closer to him, reaching his palm out without making a move to take the keys, he really seems to be thinking about this. “Are you sure?”

Dean nods determinedly. “Absolutely.”

Cas finally grabs the car keys, looking both grateful and anxious. “I’m going to call you if anything goes wrong.”

“You better.” Cas is not a meter away when Dean calls back, “Oh, and Cas? If you run away with Baby, I’m gonna hunt your ass down.”

 

It has been five hours since Dean left to meet Castiel and Sam figures that they’re not going to spend lunch in the apartment, so he decides to go out for some food of his own. There’s a diner called Patsy’s a few blocks away and he heard the food there is great. By the time he reaches the ground floor, Sam thinks that he should just walk since looking for a parking space is going to be a waste of time. It will also be a great substitute for his morning run. As soon as he exits the building, he hears noise coming from the garage, which is unusual by itself, but what he really isn’t expecting to see inside is Dean with black stains all over his hands and arms. Laughing. Sure, Dean is charismatic by nature, so he acts like everything’s okay all the time, yet throughout the years of barely seeing him, not once did Sam see him smile – the genuine one where his eyes crinkles and his face glows that all you can do is smile back. But now, he’s laughing. Sam forgot that Dean laughs with his body. He tries to think of all the things he had forgotten about his brother that he almost fails to notice the guy in the garage with him.

“It’s not funny, Dean.” Judging by his voice, Sam guesses that he’s Castiel.

“Come on. It’s a little bit funny.” Dean starts another fit of laughter, but it dissipates when he follows Castiel’s line of sight.

Now, they’re both looking at him and Sam can see their faces, especially Castiel’s. Sam thinks that you don’t really get drunk from one beer even if it’s taken early in the morning, at least _he_ doesn’t, so he contemplates why this guy looks like Cas. The Cas who was his best friend and the Cas who died in a car accident, plenty of years ago. Okay, maybe he’s being dramatic, this person is not _that_ Cas, he’s someone older. Although, Sam is sure that this is what Cas would’ve looked like today if he were alive. He has the dark, starkly hair, the stoic expression that always seems ready to smite someone, and the ocean blue eyes which ironically makes him look calm and compassionate. He’s even wearing a trench coat which isn’t what Cas used to wear, but he always wore that over-sized tan coat his father left him.

These things can’t exactly go unnoticed and yet, Dean didn’t tell Sam. And then he remembers, Dean asked about people coming back from the dead. It’s like an epiphany when it strikes him. Dean didn’t just ask that because he’s curious.

But before he can say anything, Dean is already calling out to him. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Confusion and frustration floods Sam’s brain. Dean seems to be resolute that they’re not going to talk about this. Well, Sam can’t really blame him. They’re not exactly emotionally healthy individuals and he’ll be damned if he tries to pull the explanation out of Dean. “Uh, I was going to grab lunch. Have you guys eaten?”

“Yeah. Cas bought us food earlier.” _Cas._ Of course, that’s his name and Dean doesn’t look like he has a problem with that. Sam throws the thought away and watches as Cas comes closer as per Dean’s request. “Cas, this is my brother Sammy.” A huge grin splits Dean’s face that Sam doesn’t even want to question the sudden appearance of his nickname.

“It’s Sam.” He offers his hand and Cas shakes it, offering the same smile as Dean’s.

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m sorry I woke you up this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Up close, Castiel looks so much like his best friend. He almost wants to hug him, but it’s really not normal to hug people you just met. It’s also not normal to shake their hand for too long. Sam drops Cas’ hand immediately as soon as he realizes that and tucks his own in his jacket pocket. He glances back to Dean’s direction just to check if he’s missing something, but his brother is still grinning as if a hook got caught in his cheek and when Sam's gaze switches to Castiel, he sees his best friend once again and he realizes that this is too much for him to handle. “I-I’ll see you around.” He dismisses the whole encounter and leaves without waiting for an answer. After a few blocks, he finally catches his breath, convincing himself that he’s not freaking out. What Sam doesn’t realize is how true his words are going to be.

 


	4. New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story got away from me. I can't even count the number of times I wrote and re-wrote this chapter, but here it is.

The garage is quiet, except for the clanking sounds the tools make when hitting the floor. Cas has produced some sort of gadget, typing earnestly that he has yet to tear his eyes away from the bright glow. They've been like this for god knows how long, and Dean feels his muscles starting to get sore. He hasn't felt this exhausted in years, and now that he’s acknowledged it, it’s like a wave just poured over him. He’s missed the sensation–revels at the way his muscles are barking at him. He pops his back and stretches his arms, peeking at Cas who now has turned his head in Dean’s direction.

"Tired?" Cas’ head tilts as he speaks. He looks concerned, and a voice in Dean’s head immediately tells him to disagree. Dean’s been used to hiding his weakness for a while now.

"No." Dean denies defensively before he can stop himself.

Cas' eyebrows shoot up, silently questioning Dean’s futile attempt to lie. "I would say that I take your word for it if you didn't look like you're about to fall over."

Dean feels like that, too, so he shrugs in resignation because if he’s going to be honest with himself, he's done a lot of things that he hasn’t done in years for Cas.

A hearty chuckle comes out of Cas, his eyes sparkling under the substandard building light. He walks over to Dean before he asks, "want to get something to eat, or do you want me to get out of your hair, so you can rest?"

His stomach twists at the thought of Cas leaving. He shrugs it off, along with the desire to bury his face under the soft haven of his pillows. "You should know by now that I'm not going to turn down food, Cas."

"Pizza, then?"

Dean beams.

Their food arrives half an hour later. They fight over who's paying, and Cas only wins because Dean can't think of a better argument when his own words regarding Cas owing him are used against him. He brings out plates and forks to the living room, where Cas is sitting on the floor and munching on a bite of the pizza slice. His brain plays memories of receiving dirty looks because of his table manners.

"What happened to not eating like a caveman?"

"What?" Cas looks up at him, eyes not blinking.

_Different blue._

"Dean?" He hears Cas' tone switch to one that's filled with worry, and it dawns on him that he hasn't answered his question.

He shakes his head and takes a seat beside Castiel. "Nothing. I thought you'd want to use these." He says as he puts down the tableware in his hands.

"They're just more dishes to wash." He smiles, which Dean returns as he picks a slice. "Does it bother you?"

It shouldn’t, but Dean feels like a truck’s been dumped over him, and it’s getting harder for him to breathe. A firm, gentle hand taps his shoulder, and it's his turn to ask about what he missed.

"You seem like you're deep in thought. I can use a plate if that's what you are worried about."

Technically, he's going against years of conditioning, but he disagrees. "No. You're right. I'm just-." What is he? Confused? Scared? Sad?

"Tired?" Cas smirks. And he's right, just not completely.

"I really appreciate this, Dean. Thank you." The bright twinkle in his eyes turns soft. He's really grateful, and Dean doesn't know what to do with that. Sure, he likes helping people because they take his mind off unpleasant things, but Castiel is different. Dean doesn't want to figure out what it is. He's afraid of where it might lead, of what it might unbury. But there's a certain sense of calm when Dean lets himself just go along and accept it. There's no harm in talking to him, and nothing can definitely go wrong if he shares a meal with him, so Dean tries to reel in his thoughts to do just that.  
  
"Anytime, Cas." He grins before taking a bite. "Want to watch something?"  
  
"Okay." Cas twists his body to face him properly. "Do you have any favorites?"  
  
Cas doesn't know what he's in for. Dean tries to choose without feeling guilty about the others being left out but fails, so he's just going to let Cas fight his battle for him. "Which one do you think we should go for, some Indiana Jones or are you in the mood for Die Hard movies?"  
  
Instead of an answer, Cas squints, looking as if he's trying to figure out what language he's speaking.  
  
Dean shakes his head timidly. "No."  
  
"No." He says with more conviction.  
  
Cas still hasn't said a word.  
  
"No way. Dude!" He chuckles in disbelief. "Oh, so help me, I'm gonna make sure you know every line in those movies before Christmas."  
  
"Why Christmas?"  
  
"Uh, because it's not Christmas if you don't watch the Die Hard movies. It's the rule." He imparts the knowledge without missing a beat.  
  
A frown forms on Castiel's face, although he seems more confused than annoyed. "I highly doubt that's true, Dean. Christmas is a holiday commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ. I don't think a movie named 'Die Hard' holds true to the purpose of the event."

Dean chuckles. “That's because you haven't seen it yet.”

 

**2001**

"We have to tell someone, Dean.”

Of course, Cas would say that. He'd been saying it ever since this all started, but his persistence was no match for Dean's stubbornness.

“No, we don't. I'm fine.” His voice was raised this time. Cas had to know that he was serious. Although, the icy blue gaze that was directed at him told Dean that his friend was also finding nothing amusing in their situation.

“Fine? Your arm is broken.”

“I've noticed.” He quipped, and Cas raised from his seat into Dean's personal space to maybe throw him out of the room because yeah, bad joke. He used his good arm to settle him back down. “Okay, calm down. Pam patched me up, and you know she's the best person for the job.” Pam used to be a medic. It was just a bonus that she never asked Dean how or where he got his medical emergencies. “Besides, it was an accident.”

Cas stood up, this time, a few feet away from Dean. His hands wiped his face while he sighed, or more accurately, growled in anger. “Your father is drinking himself stupid, as far as I'm concerned, that's not an accident.”

“And I carried him into the house, but I slipped, technically, not his fault.”

“Yes, good. Convince me with a technicality.” Cas’ shoulders slumped. He was the only one who knew of the many ‘accidents’ that happened because of his father's, well, habit. He also knew that if they told a grownup about it, the result won't exactly be sunshine and rainbows for his father. “I hate lying to Bobby.”

“I know.” And Dean knew very well. Bobby knew that John had a drinking problem from when they were kids, but if he were to figure out that either Dean or Sam was getting hurt because of it, he wouldn’t be so nice about it. “I just have to be more careful.” Dean murmured gently, he knew he wouldn't be able to take this lightly if their roles were reversed.

“Dean, you know that's not the problem.”

“Yes, Cas, because we've talked about this. Sam needs him.”

Cas slowly made his way back to his seat, a cloud of anger and understanding battled for a spot in his eyes. “You need him.”

Okay, not exactly what Dean had in mind, but he'd take anything that could calm Cas down. “Why don't you make us some popcorn, and I'll set up Die Hard in the living room?”

Cas stared at him before sighing dejectedly. “You're lucky Bobby won't be home for a few hours.” Cas stood up to leave his bedroom, but his head peeked into the room not even a minute later. “Oh, and Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You meant Die Hard with a Vengeance, right?”

Dean scoffed. “Come on! If we watch it three times, it's like Die Hard 3.”

Cas nose crinkled as he shrugged and said, “you can keep telling that to yourself, Dean, but this is my house, so my rules,” before grinning wickedly and puttering to the kitchen.

 

 **Present Day**  

Dean hears mumbling from his spot on the sofa, and he tries to figure out if that's what woke him up, or the sunlight streaming from the window.

“It's quite astonishing that we've never met.”

The smell of bacon fills the air as Dean hears the sizzle of food on a pan, along with his brother's voice. “I'm with you there, but it's not exactly a small campus.”

“That is true,” Castiel replies, his voice just a smidgen of husky from sleep.

It isn't until he's fully sitting up when it dawns on him. Sam and Cas. Sam and Castiel are having small talk.

“Hey, Dean.”

Dean has to twist his whole body to face his brother, cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

He approaches him, and sure enough, Cas comes into view. He's dressed in the same clothes, and unlike his voice, it doesn’t look like he has just woken up. “Hello, Dean.”

“Mornin’.” He tries to tell them, but it comes out as a grumble. He takes the seat next to Cas, fully aware of the eyes his brother has trained on him.

“So, Ca-Castiel here told me that you guys lost track of time watching Die Hard?”

“Yeah. Can you believe that he never watched them?”

Cas’ squint is supported by the scoff that Sam gives him. “Uh, yes, actually. Not everybody likes Die Hard, Dean.”

It should be an innocent jab, but Dean knows better than to assume he's not being told something else. The look that Sam gave him in the garage yesterday says so. Luckily, a phone rings before he has a chance to worry about the silence.

Cas excuses himself, the echoes of his voice softened as he enters the living room. “Yes, Balthazar. I'm quite safe–no, that’s–.”

Dean walks over to the coffee maker to avoid his brother's view. It works even better for him because Sam goes back to tending the pan. It's not until he's taken a sip when Cas walks back into the room, hair sticking up, which Dean thinks shouldn't make his pulse quicken.

“I must go. I forgot that I made plans with a friend.”

He gulps down his coffee, ignoring the slight burn. “Yeah, sure. I'll just grab my pants.”

“Oh, you don't have to drive me home, Dean. You've helped me more than enough.”

Just when he's about to argue, Cas raises his hand. “I insist.”

“Okay, well, let me walk you out.”

Cas nods at that and turns to his brother. “It's nice to meet you, Sam.”

“It's nice to meet you too, Castiel.” The smile that Sam gives him is almost too sad, but Cas doesn't seem to notice.

“Thank you, Dean,” he says when they reach the door.

“I'll text you when it's fixed,” Dean promises, and they exchange goodbyes. There's an ache when Dean closes the door, and he brushes it off because it's impossible for him to be missing Castiel a few seconds after he left.

He's probably just bummed that he’s about to have a dreadful conversation in the next room. There are only enough times for him to successfully dodge this topic, so he might as well face it now. “Okay, Sam, spill.”

His brother’s eyes are so wide, it's a miracle that they haven’t popped out of his head. “Well–.” Sam has taken a seat, but his food sits lonely on the table. “You can't tell me you don't see it.”

Dean's default reaction is to deny everything, but he stops himself because Sam is not stupid, far from it. Of course, it's obvious. “I do.”

“And?”

“I don't know, Sam. You tell me.”

That makes his brother jump out of his place at the table. “You don't know? Dean, he's not Cas.”

Well, that kind of came out of nowhere. Dean was sure they were going to talk about how Castiel is the spitting image of their best friend and how freaky it is, and not state obvious facts. “Uh, I know that.”

“Do you? You've done more for him than any other human being in the past 15 years combined. You made him watch Die Hard.” What he says next is more of a whisper. “Cas loved those movies.”

But Dean catches it, he also catches what his brother is insinuating. “That's not what I'm doing.” He winces at his defensive tone and waits for Sam to comment on it, but he hears nothing.

Sam does open his mouth, but he draws back with a sigh. His shoulders slump, and instead of an argument, he mutters, “I really hope so.”

The kitchen is silent and Dean has to lean on the table to take a breath. His brother doesn't go back to his seat.

 

Dean has texted Castiel that his car's all good. _Well, as good as a hundred-year-old vehicle can be_ , he types out as a follow-up message. Cas doesn’t acknowledge his messages, he supposes that it’s because it’s a school day, the final week even, and he’s probably busy. This is proven right when his phone buzzes while he's punching out his time card. He reads a message from Cas apologizing for not replying sooner and thanking him for fixing the car. He's out of the door when his phone buzzes again.

 _I hope it's not an imposition, but I won't be able to pick it up tonight. Would it be alright if it stays with you for another day?_  

 _Going somewhere?_ He types out once he's inside the Impala, and he drives with purpose. 

 _Yes, actually._ He reads Cas’ reply after pulling over to the side of the road.

 _Hop on, then._ He types out while searching for a man in a tan trench coat.

Luckily, Dean’s prediction that Cas will be at the bus stop is right. He can see him frowning at his phone before he raises his head to possibly, search for Dean and his car. Not a minute later, Cas is walking towards Baby. 

“What are you doing here, Dean?” Cas asks as soon as the passenger window is down.

“I just got off work, and I figured that if you can't pass by your car first, whatever it is that you’re going to do must be pretty urgent.” He gives Castiel a smug grin when he sees his stunned expression. “Which means that you need a fast ride, so–.” He taps the steering wheel to emphasize what he means.

“I can't possibly ask you to do this, Dean.” He begins his argument with a huff, but before he can deliver his words, Cas interrupts him. “And I’d say no if you weren't right about it being urgent.” That's what Dean's been hoping for.

“Get in the car, Cas.”

 When Cas finally gets in, Dean is surprised to see him carrying a bouquet of lilies. The smell wafts through the air conditioning, and it gives the car a sweet, soothing smell.

“So, where are we going?” His voice seems to shock him, and now that Dean's paying enough attention, Cas looks a bit flustered.

“I–sorry. Uh, Orland Park. 183rd St.”

“Okay.” He says gently to not spook Cas any further.

“I'm sorry. I just–I realized that I've never been there with anyone before.”

“Am I intruding?” Dean scolds himself for being nosy. He practically forced Cas to bring him along. “I can just stay in the car if you want, or I can drop you some–.” 

“No, it's fine.” He tells Dean, but the hesitation still lingers in his voice. “It's just that, I've never trusted anyone enough to accompany me. But I–I trust you.”

 

They arrive at what seems to be one of those assisted living residences, and Dean has to hold his breath because the place looks like a really huge vacation house. The lobby has huge windows that bathe the place with light, and the doorways let the fresh, humid air inside. There are old people playing chess in one corner, some are getting foot massages. He strays his eyes away from the lady standing by the indoor tree, to follow Cas into the hallway nearby. There are plenty of rooms, each is almost the same as the size of a studio apartment, and it's almost impossible to deny that living here costs a fortune.

“Here we are.” They stop in front of one of the bigger rooms. Cas forgoes knocking, and they are welcomed by chatter coming from the TV, which is across a middle-aged woman sitting on a rocking chair.

Their footsteps startle her, but she smiles wildly when her eyes fall on Cas. “Sweetheart.” She says as Castiel leans down to hug her.

“Hello, mom.” 

Dean freezes in his spot. Did Cas just say 'mom'? They've talked about a lot of stuff and the only thing that Dean remembers from Cas’ mom is that she loves baking. 

“I got you your favorite.” He places the bouquet inside a vase that's already been filled with water, and the high-spirited woman gives Cas a smile that’s so similar to the one that he owns.

“You didn't have to bring me anything.” She pats Cas’ shoulder gently, and he catches her hand to clutch it closer.

“Of course, I did.” After sharing similar grins, Cas turns to him. “I'm with my friend, Dean.”

Taken aback, Dean trips as he surges forward to shake the woman's hand. “Sorry. It's nice to meet you.”

She chuckles gingerly while offering him her hand. “It's alright. I'm glad to meet you, too. Charles almost never brings a friend.” 

Dean's eyebrows shoot up, and he is about to ask Cas what she meant, but the solemn gaze of Cas’ eyes shuts him up.

“We just met, mother.” He explains softly.

“Oh, where did you meet?” She chirps, unaware of the shift in Castiel’s mood.

“At the university, ma'am,” Dean answers on Cas’ behalf.

“Charles, you went to a university?”

“Yes. I teach there, mom.” Even with a sincere smile, it's apparent to Dean that Cas is not taking this well.

But Cas continues to talk with his mother until someone comes over to tell them that it's the end of visitation hours. He hugs his mother, looking as if he can't let go, or at least doesn’t want to, and they both bid their goodbyes. When it's just the two of them in the car, Cas finally slumps his poised body.

“Hey.” Dean reaches across the front seat, and he's already holding Castiel’s hand when he realizes what he's done. Weirdly, it isn't awkward and Cas doesn't seem to mind. He just stares at the gesture, as if it is actually welcomed, so Dean stays there. “Everything okay?”

His eyes remain trained at their point of contact when he speaks, “Yeah, I'm used to it.”

“Being called Charles?”

It's a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. Fortunately for Dean, Cas’ lips quirk and he chuckles lightly. “Charles is actually my father. My mom, she forgets. 

“It all happened in flash, you know? One day, she just started to forget the simplest things like what day it is, or where she left the remote. And then she began to forget our names. She couldn't recognize my brothers, and I watched her slowly forget me.

“One time I saw her watching me with this estranged look on her face, and it just–, well to put it simply, it sucked. Eventually, she just stopped remembering. She can only talk about our father. You can talk to her, but the conversations slip her mind soon enough. It's like she's seeing and hearing differently. It was too much for my father, I guess. Hence, that place.” He gestures idly at the building and sighs.

They're both silent for a minute–maybe more. Finally, Cas lifts his head to look at Dean. “I should have told you before going in there. I guess I kind of hoped that I didn't have to.” 

“I’s alright, Cas.” He pats Cas’ hand before tugging his back to face him properly. “So, you visit her all the time?”

“No, I can't. My father don't approve of my lifestyle, dating men and such, so he cut me off. I have never stepped foot in our house since then.” Cas’ shoulders go stiff and he shifts his gaze to the front of the car. “It's selfish, but sometimes I'm glad that I can visit her now.”

Cas moves a bit further away this time. It's like he's ashamed of feeling the way he does. Dean resists every urge to hug him, and he does it successfully. Except now, they're both quiet again. The silence pricks at Dean’s skin because he knows how feeling like a jackass is like. Thinking so little of yourself is very difficult because your mind is able to point out all of your flaws accurately. Dean isn't a stranger to those thoughts, so he tries to offer Cas what he thinks. “It's not selfish for you to want to be with your mom, Cas.” Dean starts the car before he adds, “for what it's worth, I think you're a really good son.”

Dean peeks and notices Cas’ shoulder loosening, and he relishes at the fact that he is able to make him feel better, however marginally. But even with the lighter mood Cas still doesn't say anything. He just stays silent on the ride home.

 

When the Impala halts in front of Cas’ apartment, Dean expects him to just politely say goodbye and leave. But without warning, Castiel is much closer to him now. He's drumming his fingers on his lap as he speaks. “I'm really glad that I brought you with me, Dean. Thank you.”

He's about to say that it's no problem when Cas interrupts, “but I must I admit, I’m quite scared.” That almost alarms Dean, if not for Cas moving closer, peering up at him and looking more determined. “This–,” he waves a hand between them, “–it's new.”

“It's new for me, too,” Dean confesses.

It's not every day that he meets someone that trusts him. He's figured that since he can’t be vulnerable with anyone, no one can be that with him. And yet, Castiel comes in, they talk about the most random things, and he shares a part of his life with Dean. It _should_ be scary, and it is, but somehow, it just doesn’t matter. 

They share a smile, and that's enough for now.


	5. Beams of Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for underage drinking.

**1999**

“I think I'm bi.” Dean slurred. “Bisexual.” He almost said it as a question. He wasn’t exactly sure if that was the term because this wasn’t something that they teach in high school. Plus, they really shouldn't have done a drinking game with scotch, but it was Cas’ birthday. And Bobby technically gave them permission–of course, he didn't know that instead of the beer in the fridge, Dean brought a bottle of Jack for them to drink.

Cas stared at him for what felt like an eternity. He looked angry, and it almost made Dean regret what he said, but he knew Cas, he wouldn't ever make Dean feel shameful. “How rude of you, Dean.”

Luckily, alcohol ran through his system, and that made the gears in his head move slower than usual. So before he could say anything, maybe an apology of sorts, Cas spoke. Or more accurately, yelled beside him. “How dare you think that this is something that you tell someone while inebriated?”

 _Oh._ Dean released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. “No, it's not that. It just occurred to me.” He peeked at Cas, who was listening as intently as he could, maybe it was unfair for Dean to figure this out at the moment. “I mean I've been thinking about it for a while, but I guess I'm done thinking.”

Cas hummed as if he was trying to ponder how honest Dean was being. “So you would've told me, even if we're sober?” He leaned his back on the edge of the couch, eyes drooping and mouth curved into a smile.

“You say I'm rude? That's not even a question. Of course, I'd tell you.”

Cas doubled over his seat, and Dean was almost sure he wouldn't be coming back up until he raised his head along with an accusing finger. “Well, it is rather convenient that you are telling me now.”

“Coincidence, Cas. Coincidence.”

“Well, as an allusion to your once wise words: coincidences don't just happen coincidentally.” He grinned triumphantly.

“Oh, eat me, Cas.”

They laughed for several seconds, could've been minutes, Dean wasn't sure. But he knew that before he fell out of consciousness, he heard Cas mumble, “‘m proud of you, Dean.”

 

**Present Day**

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas enters the well-lit store, the bell ringing as he opens the door, and Dean follows him.

He's still unsure if this is a good idea, but much like his brother, Cas has those puppy dog eyes that are impossible to say no to. Parties aren't really his thing. Weddings? They're a big no-no in his book. First of all, he has to wear a monkey suit. And secondly, they serve those tiny food things that taste weird and honestly, don't really fill anyone's stomach. Now that he thinks about it, “why did I agree to this again?”

“Because I promised that Gabriel makes the best pie.”

“Right. Lucky.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but he chuckles fondly. “I could never repay you because you refuse to ask me for anything. I know you don't like weddings, but they'll be serving pies from Gabriel's bakery. It's going to be like a pie buffet.” He convinces Dean again, and as far as Dean's concerned, he's doing a really great job.

“Yeah, okay. I just don't understand why you have to buy me a suit.” He hates dressing up for parties, but he still has something to wear just in case. He's mentioned that to Cas several times, but apparently, there's no reason good enough for him to stop all of this. Then again, Dean’s not trying very hard. He likes being with Cas because he loves listening to him talk. Sometimes he speaks philosophically, and not once has he bored the heck out of Dean.

“Dean.” Cas stops to look at him, exasperation painted all over his face. “Please just let me do this.” There go his eyes again.

“Okay, Cas.” He concedes, and Cas gives him a lopsided grin.

“Awesome,” Cas mumbles, the word sounds strange coming out of his mouth, and somehow Dean finds it endearing.

“Well, well, if it isn't Dear Cassie.” A British accent echoes from behind them.

Cas gives the guy an unimpressed glare, which looks like the one his brother gives him when he calls him by his nickname. “Dean, this is Balthazar. He's my colleague and roommate."

“Come on, darling, you can say that we're friends.” Balthazar nudges Cas before turns to Dean. “It's nice to finally meet you, Dean Winchester. I've heard so much about you.”

Dean shakes the offered hand, a bit shocked at being called by his full name, but at the same time amused at the given information. He peers at Cas, whose scowling face is now pink and is scrambling to push his friend as far away from Dean as possible.

“Why are you here, Balthazar?”

“You told me you were buying a suit. I also need one for the wedding, as you well know. Although–,” He drags out the last syllable and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I was a bit confused. Why would you do that when you're wearing the tuxedo for the groomsmen?”

“It's for Dean. Oh don't look so smug you already knew that.” Cas rolls his eyes. “Now, is there any other reason as to why you're here other than to embarrass me in front of Dean?”

An obviously fake, hurt expression paints Balthazar’s face as he places a hand on top of his mouth, but Cas is having none of it, so he drops his hand and sighs. "You're no fun. Fine.  I'll let you go. I did go here to buy a suit, you know? Anywho, it's a pleasure to meet you, Dean.”

“Pleasure’s mine.” Dean gives him a genuine grin, there's something nice about meeting the people in Cas’ life. “I take it, I'll see you at the wedding?”

“You most certainly will.” He waggles his eyebrows at Cas, promises to see him back at the apartment, and finally exits the store.

The bell is still jingling when Dean snickers at Cas. “Not a word.” He declares and then leaves to go further inside the store.

“Oh, there'll be plenty of words.” Dean runs to catch up to Cas. He's looking at the displays when Dean finally reaches his side. “So, apparently, your friend knows so much about me, how weird is that?”

A blush creeps up from Cas’ neck to his ears, and he bites his lip. “It's not weird.”

“Yes, I guess that's true, but how come I've never heard of him.”

“For reasons such as this.” He wipes his face as he sighs. “Also, I told you I had a roommate I just failed to give you his name, which is something that I should've been more careful with when telling Balthazar things.”

Dean laughs at the Cas’ regretful face. He is given an unimpressed glare, and Dean nods as he pulls himself together. “I know, I'm sorry. I was just messing with you. Balthazar gets on your nerves often, doesn't he?”

“He does. He means no harm, but he does enjoy occasionally exasperating me.”

“Well, you look adorable when you're blushing.” He says with a wink.

Cas’ eyebrows shoot up, and as if on cue, a flush fills his cheeks. The image makes something in Dean flutter and it catches him off guard. Even though it is in his nature to blurt out stuff like that, he's never felt this gratified in making someone blush. And now that he's seen it, he feels like he doesn't want to live without it anymore. It's crazy. Because, for years, Dean hasn't wanted anything as trivial as that. 

 

Dean groans. Loudly. Cas is the only one at the table because everyone else is dancing. They’re sat with Balthazar, Cas’ cousins Anna and Hannah–Dean may have joked about their names rhyming, to which Cas elbowed him in the ribs–along with their boyfriends. He found that despite Cas’ problems with his family, his cousins are still very fond of him and has remained in touch.

“Dean, that is your sixth slice of pie. After all that roast beef, I cannot fathom how you are not exploding in front of me.” Cas looks concerned even with the smile on his face.

“Ohh, you don't have the right to lecture me Mr. I-don't-mix-the-toppings-with-my-sundae.” He points at the softening ice cream with candies and crispies on top.

“Mixing them is gross, Dean. The chocolate melts, the corn flakes become mushy, and what is the point of the whipped cream if you just blend it with the ice cream?” He scowls as he proceeds to chow down his dessert. The pie suddenly becomes less captivating, and Dean parks his gaze at the man in front of him–which is why he misses the commotion. Next thing he knows, Anna’s nudging Cas with a horrified look on her face.

“Michael's here. And–.” The pause makes Cas’ head tilt and Dean drop his fork. “–so is your dad.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, Castiel’s shoulders stiffen, his eyes are dark, and he looks so stoic that it almost seems like he's been replaced with a drone.

"Castiel.” Another voice comes out of nowhere, along with a well-dressed man with perfect hair and an old man, sporting an ominous vibe.

They both stand up, and it's almost undetectable, but Cas’ head ducks down with his gaze. “Michael. Father.” His voice is cold and distant as he offers his hands to both men.

The situation scares the hell out of Dean because he's never seen this side of Cas, and he doesn't want to keep seeing it.

“It's good to see you, Castiel.” The message is meant to sound nice, yet somehow, Castiel’s father is able to make it insulting.

“Uncle.” As if Dean’s prayers have been answered, a chirpy voice erupts behind the new guests. It's from a short, okay, relatively short man, wearing a white tuxedo with a colorful bowtie. He shakes the hand of Castiel’s father and mumbles ‘cousin’ at Michael. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Your father is very persistent. He is very proud that you have finally settled down with a wise, young woman.” Cas’ father reaches to shake Gabriel's hand. “So am I. You have made the whole family proud.”

If Cas can dig a hole with his eyes, he's probably 6 feet deep by now. His jaw is clenched tight and his hands are red from the nails digging into his palms. Dean wants to reach over and slip his hand into Cas’, but he's too far right now.

“Well, let me show you the love of my life.” He faintly hears Gabriel before he turns to Cas with an apologetic frown. “I'm sorry, Cas, I didn’t kno–.”

“No, it's fine, Gabriel.” Cas interrupts his cousin. “You should follow them.”

 

Gabriel is gone when Cas finally takes a seat, and Dean copies him. He pokes the pie on his plate, which, honestly, is not at all appetizing anymore. The jazz music continues to fill the reception hall, unaware of what went down a few minutes ago.

“What do you think of getting out of here?”

The fork slips off Dean’s finger from the sudden remark from Castiel, who was immovable the last time he checked. He creases his brow, he’s not sure if he heard Cas right.

“If you’re asking if we should bail, dude, you’re the one who invited me here, it’s your call.” He shrugs, and Cas all but springs out of his chair.

He grins with pure excitement and mutters, “I know exactly where we should go.”

 

Cas is a professor. It’s not really Dean’s habit to stereotype, but he doesn’t peg him as some kind of a law-breaking fellow who trespasses into private property. Yet, they just entered what seems like a government facility at twenty-three hundred hours. Sure, Cas has an ID that’s why the doors opened, and the guard at the gate let them through, but Dean’s got a feeling that they’re breaking so many protocols just by stepping inside the dark building, let alone inside a room, with a high, concave ceiling and filled with a bunch of computers. In fact, Cas is now fidgeting with one, so Dean really should say something now.

“Uh, buddy.” He pauses to see if Cas is paying attention, and he thinks he saw Cas tilt his head a bit. “W–what are you doing?”

Luckily, Castiel still seems to be listening. He raises a forefinger, and to add to Dean’s confusion, spots of light flood the whole room–it’s like they’re surrounded by a projection of stars.And when Cas explains, he finds out that's exactly what's transpiring.

“This is what our satellite captured last year,” Cas explains proudly. “It’s quite amazing.”

“Understatement.” A complete understatement, in Dean’s opinion. They're standing in the middle of a whole patch of space, it’s damn remarkable. He can watch different dots popping on the ceiling, walls, past their heads, as if they’re taking the same journey the satellite took. A flood of joy and calm erupts in Dean’s chest–he can watch the thing forever. He then turns to look at Cas. He’s now sitting on the floor, his eyes closed, but a wide grin is plastered on his face as the images dance around him. He has probably watched this a dozen times and is just reveling at the idea of it in his head.

He takes the place beside Cas. “What are you thinkin’?”

“Just,–” He hears Cas sigh. “I am simply wondering what my life would be like if my father–if the circumstances were different. I mean I think I would never have left if he had not kicked me out.”

“Really? Even with the predestined major?”

“Yes, it was one of our points of conflict, and I do admit, it was difficult. There were times when I considered dropping everything. Everyday felt like hell because I truly believed that the reason why I had a hard time was that I was not doing a good enough job. I felt useless and miserable, but I chose to stay. I thought of it as my responsibility.”

“Don’t tell me you choose to have all that back.”

Cas chuckles, a bit dejectedly. “No, not at all. I am quite unsure though if I would have been brave enough to stand up to him.”

“Of course, you would've. You’re very strong-willed, Cas.” The comment puts an honest smile on Cas’ face. It's not much, but he'll take it.

He turns his attention back to the beams of light. Space used to fascinate Dean when he was younger, and he thought he's gotten over that feeling. Clearly, he's wrong. He remembers how the vastness made him curious, the desire to explore making everyday less suffocating. “This is really awesome, Cas.”

“I’m glad you think so. I gave up a convertible for this.” Cas had told him about the celebratory car his father would've given him if he finished law school.

“Eh, if it's not an Impala, it's not worth it.”

“You have a dependency issue with your car, Dean.”

“I can't help it if she's sexy.”

“I don’t see how a person can find an inanimate object ‘sexy’.” The finger quotes remain implied.

“You should know that I find a whole lot of things sexy. I'm out and proud, babe.” And of course, that has a whole other meaning, so he nods to confirm the unspoken question on Cas’ face. Sometimes Dean just can't shut his mouth–not that it matters because he knows he won't ever be judged by Cas. But come to think of it, he hasn't talked about his preferences with Castiel, which is maybe why he isn't saying anything. “Am I freaking you out?”

“No, of course not.” He waves his hands to prove his point.

He doesn't look freaked out, but, “well, you're very quiet.”

It's really dark, except for the lights, so maybe he's just imagining Cas blushing. “I apologize. I just–I never assumed.”

Oh. Dean never thought he's subtle.

“Thank you for telling me,” Cas adds. “You didn't have to do that to make me feel better.”

“Honestly, it just slipped my mouth, but I'm glad that you know.” As soon as he says it, he feels like a giddy ten-year-old. He clears his throat to calm himself. “I wasn't trying to hide it, though I don't exactly volunteer the information. I guess it's because I came out to a supportive environment, and I never had to explain myself, so I don't.”

“I understand. That must have been nice.” There's a glint of amusement in Cas’ smile, but Dean can't overlook the undertone.

“Well, it wasn’t perfect, and I didn't have to deal with my parents.”

He remembers telling Cas about them and how he jokes about their fate as a defense mechanism–which he said, was another joke. Cas squints at him before he sighs and tilts his head. “Do you wish you could have told them?”

Dean has come across that question in the past–his father died before he could tell him, and his mother, well, she was gone before he even knew. Dean can't figure out if he can consider himself lucky. If his father knew, who knows what he would’ve done to Dean. A lot of people, now even Cas, are still having troubles with their family, so the idea is not very appealing. And now that he's considering it again, he doesn't understand why a part of him does wish that he could've had the chance. “Am I crazy if I say yes?”

Cas frowns as if he's trying to weigh Dean’s level of crazy. Finally, he quirks his lips and shakes his head, “not at all.”

“Then you're crazy.” He smirks, and before Cas can elbow him, he stands up to make another point. “All I know is it doesn't matter as long as you have the right people in your corner. And lucky for you, you have me.”

They share matching grins before they're consumed by the stillness of the empty room. Dean tries to remember the last time he felt this serene, but before he can dive into his thoughts, he hears a smoky whisper, “Lucky, indeed.”

Cas’ words buzz like electricity under Dean’s skin. The atmosphere suddenly turns warm and the next thing he knows, he’s watching as Cas licks his lower lip. Dean’s hands prickle at the urge to be closer, not just for comfort, but to be physically near the man in front of him. He wonders what it would be like to cradle Cas’ rough, stubbled jaw, to nuzzle against his neck, to feel his body without that tan trenchcoat and thick sweater blocking him. In between his thoughts, he’s captured Cas’ face in his hands, gently mapping it with his thumb. Nose. Cheeks. Lips. Maybe it’s his hopeful thinking, but it appears that Cas has inched forward, occupying the already little space that Dean left. One of Dean’s hand moves to Cas’ neck, where he can feel Cas’ pulse thrumming.

Slowly, carefully, Dean leans in. He peeks at Cas’ impossibly blue eyes, surrounding his blown back pupils, before they're hidden as the distance close between them. The faintest brush of Cas’ lips against his makes him breathe a little lighter–like a weight is being lifted off his chest. So, he dives deeper, with force enough to take Cas in, enough so he can convince himself of this in the morning because Dean never imagined that this could be happening. Now that it has, Dean kind of wishes that they don't ever stop–Castiel’s lips are soft, and he tastes like whipped cream and strawberry–but they both have to pull away to gasp for air.“Woah.” Dean mumbles as he rests his forehead against Cas’.

“Yeah,” Cas replies, cheeks slightly flushed. “Can I–?”

“Yeah.”

Their lips meet, more smoothly this time. Dean hums when he feels a tug as Cas slips a hand on his hair.

Again, Dean feels warm, except he feels it in his chest. And then more insistently, he feels it all over his body. He thinks if Cas was able to lock the room when they arrived, but that thought’s out the window because Cas pulls his lips away.

“We can’t.” He growls as if he’s scolding himself for saying something. “Not here,” he finishes.

“Baby can get us to my place in ten,” Dean suggests to appease the fire in Cas’ gaze, which he’s probably mirroring on his face.

He is offered a small nod before Cas mumbles, “I love that freakin’ car.”


End file.
